


five days till dawn

by heartsinhay



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsinhay/pseuds/heartsinhay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded outside Wall Rose with one horse and a dwindling supply of gas, Sasha, Mikasa and Christa have to make it back with the help of a girl they find living outside the Wall—a mysterious woman named Ymir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dryswallow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryswallow/gifts).



     The 58th expedition outside Wall Rose was a resounding success. The Survey Corps ventured five hundred meters further towards the edge of Wall Maria than they had since it fell, with only eight soldier dead. Official reports credited the successs to Commander Erwin’s innovative new policies and Squad Leader Hange Zoe’s research, but the soldiers of the Corps knew what they really had to thank: the sacrifice of private Mikasa Ackerman.

 

     To Mikasa herself, it wasn’t a sacrifice. It hadn’t even been a choice. The day had been cold, just coming up dawn, and her horse’s breath came out in visible clouds. There was dew on her saddle, and whenever Mikasa shifted, moisture seeped uncomfortably into the seat of her pants. She scanned the horizon.

     The Survey Corps had long before learned to see empty space as danger, and Mikasa took particular note of the taller trees and farmhouse roofs she could use for 3DMG combat as she rode. Her eyes skipped past fields gone fallow and the small figures of Survey Corps riders in the distance, the small lumps of cabbage and potato still determinedly growing at the edges of farmland, until: there, at the edge of her vision, a single red plume of smoke.

     She sent up her own signal and veered her horse away, watching as the left side of the sky began to bloom scarlet. It was a movement that had, over the past few weeks, become habitual. Even though it was only Mikasa’s second mission, she had done the signal-and-turn routine so many times that keeping formation was almost second nature.

     Maybe not for everyone, though. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a lone rider coming towards her at full gallop, so quickly that Mikasa almost worried that the horse would trip over one of the still-indented furrows in the ground. From this distance, she could only see a speck of dark green cloak against gray-white sky. Closer, and she could barely make out a bobbing brown ponytail, closer still, and—

     “Sasha?”

     Sasha slowed as she approached, breathing in ragged gasps, her shoulders heaving and her eyes wide. When she spoke, her accent bled through.

     “Twenty Titans—“ she managed to choke out, “Coming fast—more joining ‘em—Liesl— Werner—“

     Mikasa had already tightened her hold on the reins before Sasha choked out the names of the dead.

     “Take my place,” she said, “I’ll tell a squad leader.”

     She spurred her horse. If there were that many aberrants, they’d intercept the rear flank as the formation turned, and perhaps even move in deep enough to attack the center. Armin was safe at upper left, close to Squad Leader Hange, but…  _Eren_ , she thought, involuntarily, and willed her horse to go faster. By the time she reached Squad Leader Zacharias, she was breathing as hard as Sasha had been.

     “Twenty Titans. Right flank,” she said, then took a deep breath and added, belatedly, “Sir.”

     “Shit,” he replied, and then, raising his voice, “Samuel! Heidi! Spread the word!”

     Cursing again, he drew a battered diagram of the formation out of his jacket with one hand and fired several bursts of red smoke with the other.

     “I’ll have to fuck up the formation,” he muttered to himself, “Five soldiers at least, more if they object to being sent to their fucking deaths—“

     “Sir?”

     Squad Leader Zacharias paused, stowing his flare gun back into its holster.

     “Still here? Get back in position, private.”

     “Sir,” Mikasa said, “You don’t need to send for extra soldiers. I can do it.”

     “What?”

     “I can clear them off, sir,” Mikasa said, “Reinforcements won’t get there before the Titans, but I will. I can defeat them. By myself.”

     Zacharias looked up for the first time, peering intently at Mikasa’s face.

     “What’s your name?”

     “Mikasa Ackerman, sir.”

     “Ah. I figured as much. By yourself?”

     Mikasa shrugged, an awkward heave of one shoulder.

     “I’ll catch up afterwards.”

     “No,” Squad Leader Zacharias said, almost gently, “No, you won’t.”

     Her lips tightened, pressing against each other, and she swallowed for fear of bile coming up the other way. Every muscle in her body seemed suddenly tense, her hair suddenly long enough to obscure her vision, her body too bruised, her bones too battered… It didn’t matter. She let out a shuddering breath and gripped her reins anew.

     “I’ll catch up. But if, if I… Tell Eren Jaeger that—tell him ‘thank you’,” she said, and barely waited for Squad Leader Zacharias’s nod to turn back the way she came. Distantly, she heard him shout for soldiers to bolster rear flank’s defenses, and then she was too far to hear anything at all.

     She didn’t let herself think as she rode back. She concentrated on reaching Sasha instead. She stared at the distant silhouette, at the suspicious food-shaped bulges in her saddlebags, the graceful shift of her weight with every thundering step her horse took, until she was close enough to see the lashes of her eyes and the scuffs on her shoes and it was just Sasha, dependable and absurd. And if what Squad Leader Zacharias had said… She didn’t let herself think about that, either. She was glad, that Sasha would be the last person she saw before she defeated the Titans. It would raise her spirits.

     “Which way?” she asked, and Sasha wordlessly pointed to the west. Mikasa nodded, turning her horse. As she rode past, she let her hand trail through the ends of Sasha’s swinging hair, like she’d always wanted to. It felt soft. And if—if they never—

     Sasha hadn’t noticed Mikasa reaching out, and Mikasa didn’t think she’d mind even if she had. It was embarrassment, not propriety, that kept Mikasa’s arms glued to her sides most of the time. Sometimes it felt like her only touches were born of violence: a fist against someone’s cheek when sparring, a hand extended to pull a fallen comrade to safety, a finger and thumb closed around the soft cartilage of Eren’s ear, ready to yank. She rode on, ignoring how the uneven ground made her jolt in the saddle, scanning for Titans she couldn't yet see.

     Horseshoes sounded somewhere to her right. She turned and saw Sasha bearing down on her, a grim expression on her face.

     “There aren’t any reinforcements,” Sasha said, almost accusingly.

     “It’s a simple mission,” Mikasa replied, “Intercept the Titans, drive them away from the Corps, and rejoin formation at the rear. I can take twenty Titans.”

     “Not twenty of these,” was Sasha’s rejoinder, “Or at least, not alone.”

     “But I’m not alone,” Mikasa said, and pulled her scarf up so Sasha wouldn’t see her smile.

     They streaked past empty farmhouses and pulled up beside the Titans in a matter of minutes, Mikasa’s blades at the ready. She waited for a Titan to reach down towards her, fingers extended to pluck her from her horse, then released her hooks and used the arm to swing onto a 5-meter’s neck. One slice, a leap, and she was dangling from a Titan’s back. A hand swung at her from the left. She jumped onto it. A Titan lurched towards her from the right, and she swung away at the last minute, so that it tripped into another and knocked them both to the ground. Beside her, she could almost feel Sasha doing the same thing.

     If she went counterclockwise, she could attack the 20-meter first and work her way downwards. There was no time for calculations, no time for strategy beyond what she could devise in a split second. Mikasa narrowed her whole world down to the battlefield, locked her gaze onto the twenty-meter, and let herself fly.

     Eighteen to go, and three more coming from the distance. She slashed out the twenty-meter’s neck, and let gravity and downwards momentum carry her to the next. Three down. Seventeen left, four in her immediate perimeter. That was good. She could keep in constant motion, a pendulum swinging in a dozen different arcs.

     There were only three variables on this battlefield: the Titans, Sasha and herself. She’d have to keep an eye on Sasha, partly to swing to her side if needed, and partly so she could follow Sasha’s intuition. Sasha had an uncanny ability to judge where a Titan was going to be, a sense for danger that always let her dodge out of the way, and Mikasa could use that for herself.

     Six down, but with the three distant Titans close to joining them there were seventeen left. Mikasa’s blades were going dull, the metal eaten away by the heat and steam of flesh. She ejected them and attached new ones in midair, just in time for another strike. Fifteen left. Sasha swung past her, close enough to clasp hands, but shifting so that their wires wouldn't tangle. Fourteen left. Thirteen.

     Mikasa’s hands began to register the dull ache of dragging blades through resistant flesh and tough bone. If she opened them, there would be red marks on her palms. Eleven. Eight. Mikasa felt a tug at her belt—Sasha’s 3DMG hook. She readjusted her weight, but kept moving, letting Sasha use her momentum to swing herself upwards.

     Five, and a Titan staggered from a cut through the back of its neck, its shadow descending towards the horses at the edge of the battlefield.  _No_ , Mikasa thought, even as her blades cut a chunk of flesh,  _no_ , even as something inside her scanned the field and counted down to three,  _no_ , as the Titan’s corpse fell onto Sasha’s panicking horse, killing it instantly. Mikasa’s horse, left standing beside it, neighed and bolted.

 _No_. She’d been stupid, overconfident, and now they were stuck without transportation and much too far from an army that wouldn't try to rescue them anyway. To her right, she heard a series of clicks. Sasha’s gas was running out. Mechanically, she cut through the neck of the last Titan and caught Sasha around the waist as she fell. She staggered with the extra weight as soon as they reached the ground, scanning the horizon more out of habit than anything else.

     “Two Titans,” she said, quietly, “Approaching due west.”

     An echo of a thought went  _no_  when she turned towards Sasha’s horse. She felt for a pulse, knowing that there would be none. Her knees wanted to buckle, and she let them, her hands closing around blades already gone dull.

     She felt the cool sensation of metal being laid across her lap, but didn't look up.

     “You can take mine,” Sasha said, “I don’t have any gas left.”

     “It doesn't matter.”

     She put the blades into the holsters, anyway, still staring at the ground. She’d trained the hardest, fought the best, she was so, so, strong and in the end it was useless. She wanted to say that it was unfair, to say that she it wasn't her fault, but bitterness stopped her tongue. She’d always known that sometimes strength was useless. She’d always known that the best soldiers sometimes died young. She had no right to complain, and complaining wouldn't be of any use. Nothing would. No matter how hard she fought, she wouldn't catch up, she wouldn't rejoin the Corps. For a moment, she was nine again, struggling without a knife in her hands.

     “Hey,” Sasha tried, her voice oblivious with artificial levity, “Do you think my bags are crushed? I lifted some eggs from officer’s mess when I was on kitchen duty last week and I wanted to share them with Connie and the rest.”

     Finally, Mikasa looked up, flicking her eyes upwards without turning her head. Dimly, she was aware of the Titans getting closer, her ears ringing with the sound of slow, lumbering steps turning into a run.

     “It doesn't matter,” she said slowly, “We’re never—we won’t see them again.”

     Sasha was silent, and Mikasa looked back at the horse, her arms slack at her sides. When Sasha spoke, it was quiet, and for a second Mikasa couldn't help but remember the feel of her hair.

     “Do you really think that?”

     “It doesn't mat—“

     She didn't finish her sentence. She couldn't, because all of a sudden Sasha’s mouth was on hers, her lips moving against Mikasa’s, her hands clutching the fabric of Mikasa’s shirt. Mikasa stiffened, then sighed into the kiss and kissed her back, tugging Sasha’s jacket to pull her half-sprawled figure close. It was new to her, and she was sure that she was clumsy in comparison, but instinct did what experience could not soon enough. Kissing Sasha felt like the most natural thing in the world, easier than the first time she had stepped into a 3DMG rig and known exactly how to move. It felt like the first time she had propelled herself across the training grounds with wire and gas, and learned what it felt like to fly. The Titans were getting closer and all Mikasa wanted was just a little while longer, one more minute, one more moment…

     The sound of galloping hooves rang from out in the distance and Mikasa jerked up, thinking that her horse might have somehow come back, or that a horse still shod from before Maria’s fall had wandered their way. But though it was a familiar set of green cloak and blonde hair that came thundering towards them, Mikasa was not any less pleased.

     “Angel,” Sasha breathed, and Mikasa couldn't help but agree. And there it was: despite everything, hope. She stood, swiveling to face the last tow Titans still bearing down at them, and ran at them full tilt. She climbed up disintegrating corpses and attached a hook to a knee, then a back, then a scalp, barely swinging as she climbed. A twist of her body, and she was on a shoulder. Another, and she was spinning, blood spurting from everywhere her blades touched except the sky. She welcomed this fight, the adrenaline fizzing through her veins, the memory of Sasha’s kiss inside her and the hope of Christa coming on a gray horse. For just a little longer, just one moment more, Mikasa Ackerman wanted to live.

     She touched back down on the ground just as Christa neared them, and they met each other, and Sasha, halfway.

     “I brought extra gas,” Christa said, “Blades, too. I thought you might be running out.”

     “Thank you,” Sasha said, with relief, “How far are the others?”

     “Maybe ten minutes away? I was with rear flank, but I came as soon as I heard. Eren gave me a blade.”

     “Idiot,” said Mikasa, instantly, “He needs it more than I do. His slicing is sloppy—he barely cracked top five—“

     She stopped herself.

     “Are they…”

     "Safe,” Christa replied, “Thanks to you two.”

     “Good! Good, everyone’s alive, that’s great,” Sasha said brightly, her voice bubbling up into something between hysteria and laughter, “But how are all three of us going to fit on that horse?”

     Mikasa glanced at the horse, reflexively. It was an ancient nag, perhaps a little shorter than Bertholdt, its legs knobbly with malnutrition and, most probably, disuse. She could imagine it sagging under even Christa’s weight, and when she looked back up at her, the angle made light slanting into Christa’s eyes turn them feverish and reflective.

     “I didn't know Sasha would be here,” Christa admitted, “So I’ll—I can stay behind.”

     “No,” Sasha protested, but Christa forged hurriedly on.

     “I mean it! We’d probably all be dead anyway, if it wasn't for you, and, it’s my fault for only bringing one horse, anyway, and both of you could do so much good in your lives. You could save so many people.”

     “So could you,” said Sasha, quietly.

     “I can walk, Mikasa offered, and Sasha and Christa turned to her with identical expressions of alarm.

     “You what?”

     “I can walk,” she insisted, and, sensing their disbelief, rushed to say, “I’m strong. Really strong. And…”

     How could she explain this? How could she distill into words what she’d learned in the moments between Christa’s arrival and Sasha’s kiss? Her tongue felt unwieldy and too thick in her mouth.

     “Eren… Eren once told me that if I didn't fight, I wouldn't win. And that means that if I do fight, I can. Because I’m strong.”

     There. That would have to do.

     “Even the strongest person in the world couldn't run all the way to the Survey Corps,” said Christa, and Mikasa shrugged.

     “I don’t mean running back to the Corps,” she said, “I mean walking back to the Walls.”

     Silence. Mikasa risked a quick scan. Christa had climbed off her horse, but kept a hand on its neck. Sasha’s eyes were cast down, her expression unreadable. No Titans approached.

     “I can do it,” she said, “If I travel at night, when the Titans aren't as active, it’ll only take four days. There are enough towns along the way for shelter and provisions.”

     She risked another glance. Christa indignant. Sasha trembling. Horizon clear.

     “Not alone!”

     The words burst out of Sasha like gore from a crushed skull. Her eyes met Mikasa’s, and darted immediately away.

     “No,” Christa agreed, “Not alone.”

     They stood straight-backed, determined, and the weight of responsibility settled around Mikasa’s shoulders. She nodded, once and tightly. Her spine straightened as well, almost unconsciously, and she fought the urge to give a sharp Shadis-style salute. She couldn’t dissuade them—she was no good at speeches, and both of them were stubborn at the best of times, let alone the worst—but she could protect them. And she would.

     “We should start moving,” she said, “If we double back to that town we rode through a while ago, we can take shelter until nighttime.”

 

 

     Their journey felt slow and plodding, especially compared to the breakneck excitement of only an hour ago. Mikasa snuck glances at Sasha, but only while scanning their surroundings, and never lingering for too long. Sasha, from what Mikasa could tell, was taking stock of their provisions, grimacing when she realized that all they had was the tiny, charred, piece of bread that should have been Christa’s breakfast. Christa, who hadn’t objected to the confiscation of her bread, made abortive attempts at small talk, but eventually settled into silence.

     The benefit if their quiet was that they walked faster. Sooner than later, they came to the town formerly known as Ousin. The buildings were tall, which was good, and the Survey Corps had made sure that there were no Titans in a twenty-meter radius.

     “Up there,” Mikasa said, gesturing with her chin at the tallest building they could see. A placard in front of it read “Town Hall”, but, more importantly, the small, shuttered window near its roof suggested an attic.

     The entire left half of the hall had been destroyed, one of the horrible crystals the Titans spat out nestled against the rubble. They walked carefully through until they found a staircase, Christa tying the horse near the remains of what had been a fountain and carried rainwater still. Then they climbed.

     The staircase didn’t reach all the way up to the attic, but Mikasa shoved one of her ruined blades through a wooden board and hacked at its surroundings until she made an opening large enough for them all to fit through. When she hoisted herself up, she had to stifle a sneeze. The attic was dim and dusty, barely any light seeping through the gaps in the shuttered windows. Mikasa made her away over and shoved at the window with a hand, waving away dust with another. She heard Sasha’s grunt as she, too, came up, and Christa’s more dignified entrance.

     “It’s a very nice—“ Christa stopped, suddenly, and Mikasa stopped, too, her hand going instinctively to her blade.

     “What is it?”

     She looked out, following Christa’s gaze, and saw a tanned girl with a wild ponytail standing on the opposite roof, scratching her ass. Moving towards the window, she drew her blade with a sound that felt like it could be heard all the way in Trost. The girl looked up and across, her eyes darting from Mikasa and her blade to Christa’s stricken expression to Sasha halfway through drawing her own blade herself. Her mouth opened, then moved, and Mikasa quite clearly heard her words:

     “Oh, fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha was the first one to break the silence.

Someone had to, and Mikasa was horrendously bad at words. If pressed, she’d probably blurt out some half-baked analogy based on something Eren had said to her six years ago. Christa would have been the obvious choice, except she hadn’t said anything yet, and Sasha was beginning to feel tremendously awkward. So, of course, it fell to her.

“Is there anywhere to get a good meal around here?” she asked. The girls’ lips twitched, and Sasha, who knew a god sign when she saw one, kept going.

“A chicken coop would be nice, one with living chickens. Or an old cellar. Or maybe your house?”

The girl’s lip twitch had broadened into a full-out smirk. Sasha was the only one to see it, though. Christa and Mikasa had turned to looked at her, horrified. She tried a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Christa, said, pointedly, “My name is Christa, and this is Sasha and Mikasa. And you are…?”

“Ymir.”

They waited for her to continue, but she was silent. The way she stared at them made Sasha’s skin crawl. It was like how Squad Leader Hange looked at her Titan specimens: incredibly creepy.

Mikasa spoke instead, her voice hoarse, halfway towards a croak.

“Are there,” she said, then stopped and tried, “Is there anyone else? Anyone who survived. There’s an old man, with the last name Arlert—a doctor, Grisha Jaeger—“

“It’s just me,” Ymir replied, but Mikasa was not discouraged.

“Then how did you survive?”

It was what neither Sasha nor Christa had had the courage to ask, but what they’d all wanted to. The question hung in the air like a soldier with a snapped cable, unsure whether it would be a Titan or a comrade who plucked her out of the air. Ymir swallowed, her feet shifting on the rooftop. Sasha breathed in and smelled dust.

“By being smarter than all of you,” Ymir said, eventually, “What the hell are you doing up here? You know what that is to a Titan? Eye level.”

“What are you doing up here?” Sasha countered, and Ymir shrugged.

“Taking a piss,” she said, “I like to have a view. “What are you doing outside your Wall?”

“We were separated from the formation,” said Mikasa, “Only one horse. So we wait, and then we walk.”

“One of you should’ve taken the damn horse back. Then it wouldn’t have been a complete waste.”

Ymir walked to the edge of her roof, crouching down as if she was going to jump, then paused, sneaking a glance at Mikasa tensed to follow.

“What’s your route?”

The three of them looked at each other for a moment, unsure, but it was Christa who wordlessly took the map out of her pocket and reached across the rooftops.

“Crossing River Dunlop? You’re dead for sure. That place is a hive of aberrants. It’s the mud. They wallow in it.”

She tossed the map back through the window, offhand, and seemed almost disappointed when Mikasa caught it.

“Better slit your throats now. It’d be easier, on all of you.”

She made her way back to the far edge of the roof, kicking at a tile. Sasha watched her go, then yelped as something shoved past her. It was Christa, rushing towards the window. Mikasa reached out a hand to stop her, but just barely missed.

“If you care so much—“

Ymir’s footsteps came to a stop.

“If you care so much,” Christa repeated, “Why don’t you come with us? Be our guide.”

“Why would I care about what happens to you?”

Sasha could barely see around Christa’s body, leaning halfway out the window, but she could imagine Ymir’s sneer.

“You must get bored,” said Christa, very deliberately, “Living out here, all by yourself.”

The silence stretched on for long enough for Sasha to consider butting in and offering a bribe, refraining only because she remembered that the pay for the Survey Corps was so very bad.

“It does get a little dull,” she heard, after a while, “Doing the same thing every day. Meet me on the first floor.”

And with a crash, as her feet shoved tile against tile, Ymir jumped.

 

 

They slept in the cellar. There were cushions from long-abandoned chairs that had not yet gone to mold, and Sasha curled up, shivering, in her cloak. She thought of asking Mikasa if they could sleep next to each other, as the trainees all had before, but didn’t.

She woke early, and tiptoed up to the first floor just as the last rays fo sun faded from the sky. Ousim Town Hall was full of useless treasures: teabags, pressed-flower bookmarks, dried ink. She kept the teabags, though they might have gone moldy over the intervening years, and managed to collect a small mess of sugar inside a single cracked pot. There were plants pushing their way into the building: last night, they had slept beneath a ceiling threaded with dangling roots.

She was rifling through a drawer when her fingers closed around something cold and smooth, and when she pulled it out she almost gasped for glee. It was a jar of honey, never opened. She hadn’t had any honey in years: after the fall of Maria, every available acre of land was converted into endless stretches of potato and cabbage farms. There were beehives in Sina, she’d heard, but nothing that an ordinary soldier would ever see. She unscrewed the jar with a loud pop, ignored the spoon right next to it, and licked the lid.

It was sweet as summer, sticking to her fingers, liquid smooth as water and heavy as syrup (which Sasha hadn't had for even longer). Sasha was on her second spoonful when Mikasa came in. She’d meant to take it right down to the others, she really had, but, oh, just a little more wouldn’t hurt. There was enough for everyone, anyway, even with her two spoonfuls.

“Morning,” Mikasa said, and smiled. Her hair stuck up at an odd angle where she had slept on it the previous night, her clothes wrinkled in a way that would make Captain Levi have a fit. Despite the haze of sleep in her eyes, her movements were still sharp and assured.

“Look, Mikasa,” Sasha said, “I found honey.”

She held her spoon out to let her see, and was surprised enough when Mikasa took it from her hands that she forgot to let go. Their hands brushed against each other as Mikasa brought the spoon to her mouth, Sasha’s hand still against the cold metal when Mikasa’s eyes closed in happiness. Hesitantly, she moved to cup Mikasa’s face. Her thumb stroked across Mikasa’s cheek, once, nearly brushing against her eyelashes. Almost involuntarily, Sasha swayed closer, and at that moment, Mikasa’s eyes flew open.

“Can I…?”

She didn’t know who asked the question, if it had been Mikasa’s voice pitched low or some nervous, wavering facsimile of her own. All she knew that it was answered with a kiss, with Sasha’s heart beating like heavy rain against a window and Mikasa’s head tilting to meet hers and, incongruously, the taste of honey.

They were too far apart, the way Sasha had to lean slightly forward uncomfortable, so she took a step forward, then another. Mikasa smelled like sweat and unwashed hair, but her lips were soft and her skin was warm and her eyes were very, very, dark. She kissed like she fought, all intent and intensity, but with less casual confidence. She hovered an arm near Sasha’s waist, not quite daring to lower it just yet, but when she did Sasha let out an internal cheer. She placed her own hand on the small of Mikasa’s back, and—

Someone coughed, loudly, and Sasha very nearly bit Mikasa’s tongue. They didn’t quite spring apart, Mikasa too unwilling to relinquish her hand’s hard-won place on Sasha’s hip, but both of them turned to look at a politely composed Christa and smirking Ymir.

“I said,” Ymir repeated, “It’s time to leave. But before we do, could I get some of that honey?”

 

 

Christa wouldn’t take her turn on the horse.

They had been walking all night, eating only whatever vegetables they managed to scrounge up on the way. Sasha was at the front, for her night vision, and Christa next to her, with the map and a small torch, then Ymir, for her expertise, then Mikasa, to watch Ymir.

None of them trusted the girl, even Christa, but it wasn’t personal. It was common sense. They didn’t know who she was, where she was from, how she’d survived, and though Sasha was sure that Ymir was probably a good person, in general, she wasn’t sure if she was safe. Christa acted like she was sure she could pry all that information out of Ymir somehow, but Mikasa was ready to hold her down with a knife at her neck if they couldn’t. Sasha didn’t know what to plan for, except that, instinctively, she thought that it would be better to keep Ymir around.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they were all tired, from killing whatever Titans they didn’t manage to avoid as much as walking, and Christa wouldn’t take her turn resting on the horse. Sasha didn’t want to force her, and arguing would waste more time than they had, but…

“It’s fine,” said Christa, with her placid smile, “Really, it is. I can still walk for a little longer.”

“Are you sure?” Sasha asked, and shifted uncomfortably when Christa nodded, “You can still come up if you want to, whenever you feel tired.”

“Of course,” she said, and, behind them, Ymir gave a loud snort.

“I would! I’m just not tired yet.”

“Get on the horse already,” Ymir said, walking up to them, “Before you become a liability.” Christa looked up at her with an expression as closer to anger than Sasha had ever seen before, and Ymir, though shielded from Sasha’s view by shadow, didn’t seem any happier.

“Um—“ Sasha tried, but neither of them paid her any attention.

“You didn’t get a better horse because you didn’t need it,” Ymir said, softly, “And then when they needed a good horse, yours was useless. You didn’t get more than a pathetic lump of bread because you thought someone else would need it more, and when we got stranded, that was all we had to eat. Sacrificing yourself and playing the goddess might make you happy, but when you risk yourself you risk everyone else, too. Be a little selfish sometime.”

“Hey—“ Sasha said, “That’s a little too far, don’t you—“

“I don’t think you’re one to talk about everyone else,” Christa replied, lightly, and Sasha shivered at the sweetness in her voice, “There were thousands of people outside Wall Rose, and now there’s one, and you’re alone. If I was selfish, like you, where would that get me?”

“Um—“Sasha tried, but she was ignored.

Ymir leaned downward just to make eye contact, and Christa turned her face upwards as well.

“Unlike those thousands of people, I’m alive,” she said, and, through the flickering torchlight, Sasha could see Christa slowly lose her smile. It was awkward.

“So am I,” she said, “So, if anything…”

“If anything?”

“We’re the same,” she said, and then, perfectly composed again, just as Sasha was contemplating maneuvering the horse between the two of them just to get rid of the weird atmosphere, “I think I’m getting tired now, Sasha. Could I please rest on the horse?”

“Sure,” said Sasha, scrambling off, “I’ll scout ahead. I guess.”

She looked back at Mikasa and made a face before she escaped, shivering theatrically, and smiled when Mikasa made a small grimace back. At a time like this, it was nice to have someone who understood.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikasa woke to someone shaking her, and the sound of Sasha’s sleepy voice. For a moment, her mind conjured up a wild image of a small cottage, and Sasha beside her in bed, and their child (or Eren, whichever worked) shaking them awake because of a holiday or an exciting snowfall or to go Titan-killing (that one was Eren), but when she opened her eyes and looked downward, the face that met her was a Titan’s deformed visage and gaping maw. She didn’t jerk back, which was good—after a moment she realized that she was in a tall tree, where they’d all slept during the day, and the rough hands that had shaken her awake belonged to Ymir.

Wanna g’ back to sleep,” Sasha mumbled, and Mikasa privately agreed. Sasha’s voice was low, her vowels back to the long, dulcet sounds of her countryside home, but there was no time to appreciate it. Mikasa looked down at her hands and realized that she had taken her blades out in her sleep. Good.

“Wake up already,” Ymir snapped, eyes staring warily at the Titans below, “They’ve learned to climb.”

“What—“

“This is why I don’t make it a habit to sleep up in a giant tree next to three soldiers that apparently act as fucking Titan bait. Get up. We need to get out of here.”

“Understood,” Mikasa said, swaying a little as she stood up. She breathed, and refocused: At least ten Titans had begun to climb, with twenty-five more beneath them. The tree they were in was part of what they could barely call a forest, but if they moved further inward, the undergrowth would slow the Titans down and it would be easier to deploy 3DMG.

“I’ll clear the way inward,” she decided, and, when Ymir nodded, strode to the edge of her branch and walked right off.

She sent out a 3DMG cable as soon as she dropped, swinging to decapitate the Titan near to her and Sasha’s tree and swiftly moving further inward. Her blades ran out too quickly, as more and more Titans started to climb, but she couldn’t waste even their remains. She plunged them into the back of a Titan’s neck. Not the slice needed to kill it, but that would keep it down until the blades began to dissolve. She could see Sasha and Christa moving inwards next to her out of the corner of her eye, using their cables to swing from tree to tree without dispensing gas, Ymir hanging onto Christa for dear life.

They made their way towards the center of the forest, and soon enough Mikasa’s canister clicked as her gas ran out.

“Christa!” she called, and was rewarded with Christa’s own. The split second it took to exchange the canisters let a Titan leap past her, forcing Sasha to jump backwards out of the way, and Mikasa spent too much gas in her wild lunge to take it out.

She looked out at the advancing Titans, ranks that had swelled to fifteen, though she had killed nearly all of the ones that had first begun to climb. A Titan below her, one that had crawled on the ground so slowly that she hadn’t thought it was a threat, had begun to crawl up two trees past them as well. She shivered, but swung back at the horde. She’d need to be precise, economical: cutting two Titans at a time, or three in the same swing. Christa didn’t have much gas left, perhaps enough for two or three minutes of sustained fighting, but even if the gas ran out she could use gravity to propel her downwards, then snap her cables up and manually climb. There wasn’t enough gas, but she wouldn’t die here. She wouldn’t let herself. Even if she had to stop fighting and run with Sasha and Christa and Ymir, she would live.

Something shot out from behind her, and she turned her head to see a Titan, its hair lank and wild. Did she miss one? Were they coming from the opposite direction? Were Christa and Sasha—she looked back, even as her 3DMG took her towards the next Titan, and saw Christa and Sasha safe. Christa and Sasha. No Ymir.

She shot her cable at a high branch and jumped to safety, where she could see what that other Titan was. It seemed like it was some sort of aberrant, rushing at the other Titans and tearing at their flesh, and Mikasa almost sighed in relief. She could use this. She swung a hook onto the Titan aberrant, as it jumped to a higher branch, let it take her upwards, then dropped down and let gravity bring her close to a climbing Titan’s neck. She didn’t know what was happening, or why, but that wouldn’t stop her from clearing the last of the Titans off. The Titan was like... like the opposite of a nightmare, striking at its opponents with lucid intelligence but a Titan's strength.

Soon enough, they were safe, with a little bit of gas still left in Christa’s canister. Mikasa didn’t quite sag onto a tree branch, but she let herself lean against the trunk, watching as the aberrant paused, looking around for stragglers, as the flesh at the back of its neck parted and something emerged, something that looked like, like…

“Ymir!” Christa called, “Are you okay?”

It took only a second to realize that the fight wasn’t over yet. The other Titans may have been dead, but Mikasa didn’t sheathe her blades.

“Ymir,” she said, then, unable to find words that would properly encapsulate her rage and confusion and fatigue, said nothing else.

“I told you not to panic,” the face at the back of the Titan said, “I’m fine.”

Something in Mikasa’s chest tightened, and her hands clenched into fists. Anger shot through her body, the thought of Carla and Armin’s parents and the rest of Shingansina saved by an army of Ymirs, and—ah. There they were.

“You could’ve saved everyone,” she snarled, “Everyone in the Walls. You could’ve rescued them, you—“

“Mikasa, if you get her angry she might attack us! We don’t know anything about the situation,” Sasha hissed to her, quietly, and then, raising her voice, “Ymir, how did you get to be a Titan? Were you always a Titan? Can you turn other people into Titans? Were you born a Titan? How are Titans born?”

“Shut up,” Ymir replied, instantly, and then said, flushing, “I don’t know.”

“What?”

She closed her eyes—her Titan eyes as well as her human—and recited her story in a dead monotone, the only sound in the forest her voice and the hissing of the Titans’ bodies as they turned into steam.

“I lived as a Titan for seventy years. It was the worst kind of hell—none of you can even imagine it—but then one day, outside the walls, I saw three human children running. I ate the first. The second—he was blond, and looked like a dairy farmer’s son—yelled ‘Marcel!’ and the third yelled ‘Marcel!’ but they kept running. I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t know what happened to me, except that boy… Eating him turned me human. Two weeks later, I was sneaking back over the largest wall I’d ever seen, and the next thing that happened, the very next thing, was that a Titan punched through.”

“Why didn’t you help anyone? You could’ve saved—“

Ymir’s gaze shot to Mikasa with enough force to make her silent.

“I went over the wall,” she said, very slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “And then, right after, they went through the wall. Why do you think that happened? I was helping them. I was keeping them safe.”

Mikasa blanched, and then she did slump down against the tree branch. She felt sick. Distantly, she noticed Sasha crouching down and tentatively putting an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into a touch. She should be taking revenge—she should have her blades out, she should be whistling through the air—but all she did was sit there as Christa jumped from branch to branch, getting closer to Ymir, taking in the Titan’s monstrous visage but not backing down. She forgot, sometimes, how strong Christa was, but the girl's straight back, the way she stood on branches with perfect balance, suddenly reminded her that they were all three top ten, even though she was first.

“That’s not true,” she said, “Marcel, and the blond boy—I’ve heard that story before. We’ve all heard that story before.”

“We have?” asked Sasha, and Christa nodded.

“Reiner and Bertholdt. If what you said is true, then they were outside the walls, and now they’re in the Military Police. Don’t you see? They weren’t trying to get to you. They were trying to get inside the Walls.”

“So that’s what it was,” Mikasa said, almost to herself, “That’s why.” Her legs almost shaking, her feet feeling like they might slip out from her any second, Mikasa stood.

“We need to warn everyone,” she said, “We need to get back and tell them about—whatever Reiner and Bertholdt are. Advance scouts, or spies. We have to save them all."

 

 

They started walking again at sunset. Without any gas, even though they'd restocked a little in Ousim, they'd had to rely on Ymir and Mikasa to protect them. Ymir stayed in her Titan form nearly the whole time, hoisting Mikasa up or allowing Mikasa to climb to the top of her skull whenever they encountered other Titans. Mikasa had to admit that they made a good team, Ymir's cunning and speed with Mikasa's pragmatism and skill. Quickly, she became used to darting around the muscles of Ymir's Titan body, light-footed with a hand on her 3DMG in case Ymir moved too suddenly and she slipped. She still didn't trust Ymir completely, but she trusted that Ymir's shoulder would be there for her to swing on, that Ymir's teeth would be at the throat of an enemy that got too close, that Ymir's matted black hair would be strong enough to hold her weight. In Ymir, Mikasa recognized someone who had been burnt by the world so badly that she couldn't feel much through her scars, and whenever Ymir evaded a question or turned a conversation into an attack, Mikasa thought she perhaps understood.

Slowly, though, Ymir's face started lapsing back into her Titan body in longer and longer intervals, her grotesque eyelids, too large for her eyes, beginning to droop over, the steam rising from her body in slower and slower languor. Christa stopped them long before sunup, insisting on resting the night in the basement of the largest mansion Mikasa had ever seen. It looked like it had been gaudy before the wind and the Titans and the dust, remnants of bright paint and golden things all around the house, with a garden gone wild with calendulas and chestnuts and leeks. She followed a humming Sasha into the garden to pick at plants, and Ymir and Christa went inside the house, probably for Christa to cajole Ymir into staying with them a little longer (which, after the forest, Mikasa was quite sure she would).

"I think I'm going to set some snares," Sasha said, grinning, "We could have pigeons for breakfast tomorrow."

"Teach me," said Mikasa, and Sasha readily agreed. She set to work with wire and sticks and bits of berry, nudging Mikasa with her shoulder as both their heads bent over the trap. Her hair was coming loose from its ponytail, loops of it sticking to her neck, and her hands were quick and sure. As she spoke, her voice slowly relaxed into a thick country accent, not so much musical as creaky as vowels transposed themselves and consonants blurred into nonexistence. It was nice. Mikasa could imagine her father and mother teaching her the same way, and their parents before, hundreds of years of history stretching back before the Wall. 

"See, you tie the string around this way, and make a loop there--"

Sasha stopped, suddenly, and looked to the right. Mikasa almost stood up with a clatter, but something stopped her. After a while she was glad of it: Sasha threw out her grappling hook, as fast as a swipe of Ymir's Titan fists, and pierced a rabbit through its heart.

"There we go," she said, with satisfaction, "Let's bring it back in before we make the rest of the snares.

She stood, and Mikasa stood with her, their sides barely touching and Mikasa pretending that she wasn't aware of that by staring fixedly at the rusted iron hinges of the door. At the threshold, she felt something brush against her hand, and gave a start for a moment before Sasha's fingers curled around hers and held on. Mikasa smiled, reflexively, and snuck a glance at Sasha to see if she was smiling, too. They walked through cool, shady halls, the carpets still soft and intact under their feet. Mikasa almost wanted to take off her shoes. There were paintings on the walls, portraits of very old ladies and gentlemen and very young children with little in between, and soft landscapes of outside in watercolor that were all blues and greens and purples, with pink and red, of course, for the Titans in the distance, and gray for the Wall. When they passed a picture of someone who almost looked like Mikasa herself, though, they didn't have time to stop and study it: Christa waylaid them in the hallway and drew them into a small side room.

"Ymir's tired," she said, "At this rate, she'll be dead by tomorrow dawn. We need gas."

"The next village is an eight hour's detour," Mikasa replied, "We don't have that time."

"And if Ymir dies, none of us will have any," Christa said, and then, remembering herself, smiled and said, "Ymir's done a lot to help us so far, and we're all taking this journey together. That means we should all take care of each other so we can all stay safe."

Privately, Mikasa thought that Christa was just too fond of Ymir, though to be fair she'd say that for anyone else. She opened her mouth to argue, but Sasha squeezed her hand and she stopped, looking at her and tilting her head quizzically.

"Um," said Sasha, "We need gas, right? And we need to get to the Wall, right? I have an idea!"

 

 

"Remind me again why I'm doing this," Ymir said as Sasha attached the harness to her hair, "In the middle of the day, when every single Titan is up and running."

"Because it's a good plan, like leading a donkey with a carrot," Mikasa said, and when Ymir made a disbelieving sound, amended that to "It's our only plan."

Ymir grumbled, but allowed Sasha to settle herself down with no complaint. Mikasa grabbed her own hank of hair and turned to Christa.

"Are you ready?"

Christa nodded, held on, and they were off, streaking across farms and farmland, leaving footprints in the ground as Ymir ran. Mikasa turned her head and squinted behind her, listening for the tell-tale sound of a Titan's footfall. Nothing.

"Do you see any, Sasha?"

"N-no? Not yet--Oh! No, that's just a tree. Um...There!"

Twenty-meter with its arms akimbo, its dark hair reaching down to its shoulders. Mikasa readied her 3DMG and signaled to Christa, who put her hands on her own 3DMG in preparation.

"Ymir, time to go hunting!"

Ymir banked to the right and ran until she was directly in front of the Titan, then suddenly stopped, the Titan still reaching down as Ymir passed right through its legs. In unison, Christa and Mikasa shot their 3DMG hooks and began to climb up the Titan's back, as Ymir maneuvered herself back into the Titan's line of vision. Mikasa watched halfway up the TItan's shoulderblades, holding onto her 3DMG and hoping, hoping so much--

The Titan spotted Sasha on Ymir's back and lurched after her, breaking into a run, and Mikasa almost laughed in relief.

 

 

They made the Wall an hour after the sun came down and sent their cables up to climb, first Mikasa, who tested the stone to find the best handholds, then Sasha, scrambling up, it seemed, without so much as looking where she went, but Christa stayed on the ground, staring at Ymir.

"Come on," she said, "If you don't start now, you'll get left behind."

“I’m not going—“

“Of course you are,” Christa said, interrupting Ymir briskly, “Remember, back at the mansion? You were going through the drawers. And I saw you taking all the coins.”

Ymir made a small indignant sound, then let out a dry laugh, retreating back into her Titan form.

“Fine, then,” she said, her voice fading, “Hop on.”

They climbed until their hands ached, until it felt like their wires would fray and the barest look downwards filled them all with vertigo. They climbed, and just as the clock struck ten, just as Christa's hand reached the top of the Wall, just as the last Titan beneath them finally went to sleep, Mikasa made her way to the guardhouse on the top of the wall and knocked.


End file.
